


Not The One For You

by sheraiah



Series: Father and Son Universe [5]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3432233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheraiah/pseuds/sheraiah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arwen ends a courtship and has a heart to heart with an adolescent Legolas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not The One For You

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write Legolas as a teenager. Ironically my own kids, on whom my Little Legolas is based, were still Elementary school aged when I wrote this.

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~

 

 

“I am sorry, Celemir, but I promised Legolas that I would help him with his lessons this afternoon. Had you asked me earlier, I would have been happy to accompany you to the falls,” Arwen Undomiel said in her most reasonable tone of voice. Celemir had been a very persistant suitor, and while she did not wish to become any more seriously involved with him, she did not wish to be rude to him either.

 

“Your father or Erestor could as easily help the young prince with his studies. In truth, it would be more appropriate for them to do so than for you,” the dark haired Noldor said with a disapproving sniff. “He is far too young to be of interest to you, and too old to need a nursemaid.” He failed to notice Arwen’s eyes narrowing dangerously.

 

“He is my cousin, as you well know, and a very sweet child. He asked for my help, not my father’s or Erestor’s in the first place, and what I do with my time is certainly none of your concern in the second.” She frowned at him, the expression having very nearly as much of an effect as it would have on her sire. “I think it is time that we reconsider the nature of our friendship. I have no interest in bonding with you, Celemir, therefore I see no reason for us to continue to spend time in each other’s company. Good day to you.” With that, she turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving her former suitor with a dumbfounded look on his face.

 

 

~

 

Legolas sat on a branch high up in a stately oak, singing softly to the tree as he swung his feet. The oak rustled its leaves in pleasure and the young elf laughed, running a caressing hand along the trunk.

 

“I like that song, too. Shall I sing you another?” The oak rustled its leaves again and Legolas launched into the song. As he sang the last notes, he heard a group of ellith approaching down the path towards the House.

 

“I am telling you true, she broke with him completely!” A willowy blonde exclaimed to her companions.

 

“Celemir should have known better than to criticize her for spending time with the young one, you know she is as protective of him as a mother bear. Really, he was getting far too confident of his place, anyway,” a dark haired elleth responded, to the agreement of all.

 

“Well, if she will have none of him, it clears the way for the rest of us! He is fine-looking, and his family is good, too.” They passed under the tree and on down the path. Legolas frowned.

 

“I am sorry, I must go now. I promise I will come sing to you again before I leave the valley,” he said, patting the oak’s trunk again. The leaves ghosted over his hair in a caress and he smiled as he descended the tree as nimbly as any squirrel.

 

Not too many moments later he stood outside the doorway to Arwen’s chambers. Lifting his hand he knocked diffidently, and was a bit surprised when she bade him enter. He opened the door a crack and peeked around it.

 

Arwen looked up from her embroidery at the sound of a soft knock on her door.

 

“Come in,” she called, her face brightening into a smile as Legolas peered cautiously around the door. “Please come in, pen neth.”

 

“Are you well, Arwen?” He wore a shy expression, unusual in her presence as he had known her from the time of his birth and was completely comfortable with her.

 

“Of course, why should I not be?” She asked, a puzzled look on her face. He blushed and her eyebrows lifted in comprehension. “Ah, you have heard about Celemir.”

 

“Yes, I thought you might be upset.”

 

“No, not at all,” she laughed. “I never considered him as more than a friend.” Her expression turned impish. “And I know perfectly well that you have never liked him at all.”

 

“Only because he speaks to me as if I were an infant, or deficient in my wits in some manner.” He said, his look of contempt eerily reminiscent of his sire. “He is not nearly good enough for you, you know.”

 

“No I do not but he is not the right one, of that much I am certain,” she corrected gently, amused at the thought of the half-grown prince displaying the same protective tendencies that her elder brothers were prone to exhibiting.

 

“Good,” he said, crossing to her side and sitting down at her feet. He rested his head against her knee and she set aside her needlework in favor of stroking his hair.

 

“One would think, tithen ernil, that you were jealous,” she teased lightly.

 

“I am not jealous, gwathel,” he replied, “Although I think it would please my father to have you as a law-daughter.” He looked up at her with a cheeky grin. “But I am not the one for you, either.”

 

“That is a great pity, because you are already fairer than most elves I have seen,” she said, tapping him gently on the end of his nose. He promptly wrinkled it at her.

 

“Oh, do not you start that too! Miriel and Duiniel have both already tried to kiss me twice today.” He drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin atop his knees. “They are nice enough ellith, but they have not a tenth the amount of sense that you do.”

 

“They are younger than I am,” she replied. “And that matters a great deal where sense is concerned.”

 

“It must, because they are truly just silly.”

 

“Do you wish to marry someday?” she asked, tilting her head so that she could see his face.

 

“Someday, yes. I should like to be a father, I think,” he said, meeting her eyes with a slight smile on his lips.

 

“That does not surprise me,” Arwen stated, twining a lock of his hair around her finger. “You have a very good example before you in that regard.” He grinned.

 

“I know, and I have not made it easy for him,” Legolas stated, still grinning cheekily. “You are still attending the feast, are you not?”

 

“I had not given the matter much thought,” she replied, still playing with his hair. “It seems, however, that I am now lacking an escort.” Legolas gave her a searching look for a moment before rising to his feet.

 

“My lady Arwen,” he said, bowing in a courtly manner, “would you do me the very great honor of allowing me to escort you to the feast?” Stifling a smile, as it was plain that he was completely serious, she rose to her feet and curtsied to him.

 

“The honor would be mine, my lord prince,” she said gravely, again stifling a smile when he took her proffered hand and raised it to his lips.

 

“What color gown will you be wearing? I would not wish to wear something that clashed.”

 

“The red with the green embroidery, I think. I have not worn it in a long while, and I know it is one of your favorites,” she replied, favoring him with a bright smile.

 

“Not one of my favorites, it is my favorite. You would look beautiful in a flour sack, gwathel, but you look best in red.” He kissed her cheek, only recently able to do so without having to stretch to reach. “If I bring you some roses to put in your hair will you wear them?”

 

“I would wear the flour sack if you brought it, gwador,” she stated, kissing his cheek in return. He grinned.

 

“Not tonight,” he quipped, scrambling out of her reach as she swatted at him. He fled through the door, laughing, and she turned to begin getting ready for the feast.

 

She had dressed and was putting the finishing touches to her hair when there was another knock on her door.

 

“Come in,” she called, placing the last pin in her raven tresses. As she had been expecting Legolas, the sight of her two brothers entering her chambers resulted in arched eyebrows. “To what do I owe this visit, brothers-mine?”

 

“To finally coming to your senses and dropping that orc, Celemir,” Elrohir replied succinctly, dropping a kiss on her cheek.

 

“Be nice, Elrohir. I was never interested in anything beyond friendship with him, anyway,” she replied, tugging on the younger twin’s braided sidelock.

 

“Tell that to him,” Elladan retorted, with a disgusted snort. 

 

“I did,” she said with a grin, chuckling when they both made faces at her.

 

“I am glad to see that you are still going to the feast, dearest sister,” the elder twin said, sitting down an the bench next to her.

 

“Why should I not?” she asked, tugging on Elladan’s braid in turn. “I even have an escort.”

 

“May I ask who?” Elladan gave her what she referred to as his ‘elder brother look’ and she laughed.

 

“Legolas, so you may stop worrying right now,” she said, laughing again. “I must say, some elleth is going to be very fortunate one day. He can be quite the charmer when he wishes.”

 

“He is one I would not object to, once he reaches his majority,” Elrohir said, a speculative look on his face.

 

“You may stop also, Elrohir Elrondion,” she replied, throwing a cloth at him and dropping her chin to look down her nose at the younger of the twins. “He has already said that he is not the one for me.” 

 

“That is a pity, but I suppose it is to be expected,” Elladan said, rising to his feet again. “After all, you are the closest thing he has to a mother, since his mother died.” He smiled fondly down at her. “We will just have to intimidate anyone we feel to be inappropriate.” Any retort she would have made was preempted by another knock on the door. Elrohir crossed the room and opened the portal to reveal a very well dressed Legolas.

 

The prince had on a shirt of the same shade of red as Arwen’s dress and a sleeveless tunic of deep green with breeches of the same shade of green and black indoor boots. He was, for once without being instructed, wearing his circlet as well as an emerald and mithral medallion that had been a begetting day gift from his father. In his hands, he carried several deep red roses. He greeted the twins and crossed to Arwen’s side, bending to kiss her cheek.

 

“You look beautiful, gwathel. Would you like me to help you put the roses in your hair?”

 

“Yes, please. You are better at it than I am,” she said, smiling at him. “You look very handsome in that outfit, pen neth.”

 

“Thank you,” he replied gravely, clipping the stem of the first rose and carefully threading it into the coil of hair on top of her head. He repeated the process until he was satisfied with the result. “There, perfect.” Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Arwen had to agree that it complimented the dress and she said as much. Legolas merely smiled and took her hand, raising her to her feet. “Shall we go, my lady?” he asked, offering her his wrist.

 

“Yes, my lord prince,” she replied, smiling sweetly at him and laying her hand on his wrist. Without a glance at the twins, they exited the room. Elladan and Elrohir traded an arch look.

 

“Brother-mine, I think we are going to have some serious competition for the ladies once he attains his majority,” Elrohir said, his eyebrows in his hairline.

 

“Competiton, my arse,” Elladan shot back. “One look at that blond hair and those dimples of his and there will not be any competition. He will win hands down. We had best take advantage while we can.”


End file.
